


Caught in a Whisper

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The sound of the heavy boots came closer, and a few moments later, Lucius Malfoy came out on the terrace. With his back toward the patio doors, Draco couldn't see his father's face, but he noted, with a small huff, the exhaustion in his voice.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>A second later, Draco felt warm lips pressed against the side of his face and a soft murmur in his ear, “What are you sitting out here for, child?”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>“You're late,” was all Draco offered as an answer.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught in a Whisper

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to move all my old fic from Livejournal to here. Some of this stuff is very old, so yeah...

__

Listen for the calling, use your pleasure  
Perchance a wish and it just might come true  
Beautiful is beautiful forever  
You'll see yourself in me  
Caught in a whisper  
This is the meaning

It had just been raining.

Draco was sitting on the white-painted, wooden bench on the porch, legs drawn up and arms curled around his knees.  
He had been sitting there for a while now; his white hair was darkened by the water and was cascading down his neck and shoulders, and every other second, a rain drop slid from his hair line, down over his forehead, down between his brows, just as pale blond as his hair, along the arch of his nose until it reached the tip where it would pause a bit before letting go and land on the boy's knee. 

It was quiet in the garden even though it was only the early evening. Only the frogs from the pond could be heard over the wet grounds.

If Draco's parents had been home, they would probably told him to get inside long before the rain had begun. But they weren't home. Draco's mother was attending a charity event for St. Mungo's, and Draco's father had been called away _on business_.

Of course, Draco knew exactly what kind of _business_ his father was doing. It had increased from being practically non-existent to suddenly being all the time. Lucius could be called away on _business_ in the middle of the night and not return before the next evening, looking exhausted and worn.  
Draco never said a word about it, because he knew that this was just something Lucius had to do, whether he liked it or not. And in the end, Draco knew, Lucius did it for him, because they both knew that if Lucius refused to do the Dark Lord's biddings, the Death Eaters would take it out on Draco.  
But even patient as Draco was, he was beginning to lose it. It had been almost three weeks since the summer holidays had begun, and Draco felt like he might as well have stayed at Hogwarts, because Lucius was almost never around.

Draco drew a sigh and tightened his grip around his knees to keep himself from shivering. The weather was warm, but he had been sitting still in rain wet clothes for so long that he was beginning to feel really cold.  
The thin white shirt he was wearing was sticking to his skin, and the matching shorts didn't provide much heat either, and even though he tried to fight it, he began to shiver.

Just as he decided that he had waited long enough, he heard something from inside the manor. A small 'pop', then the sound of heavy boots on wooden floors, followed by a mumbling and the sound of someone brushing their clothes.

Lucius had returned and had apparently just stepped through the fireplace in the sitting room.

Normally, Draco would have sprung to his feet and stormed inside the manor to meet his father, but tonight, he remained on the bench and merely sighed softly.

“Draco?” it came from inside. “Draco, are you outside?”

The sound of the heavy boots came closer, and a few moments later, Lucius Malfoy came out on the terrace. With his back toward the patio doors, Draco couldn't see his father's face, but he noted with a small huff, the exhaustion in his voice.

A second later, Draco felt warm lips pressed against the side of his face and a soft murmur in his ear, “What are you sitting out here for, child?”

“You're late,” was all Draco offered as an answer. 

There were silence for a moment, then he felt Lucius sitting down next to him and a strong arm was wrapped around him and drew him in close against a warm body.

“You are wet,” his father muttered as he caught Draco's chin between his fingers and tipped his head back to make Draco look up at him. “You'll get a cold.”

Draco shrugged and jerked his head away. 

Lucius sighed beside him and withdrew his arm. “Tell me, my boy,” he said. “What did I do to upset you, hm?”

“You're late,” Draco repeated sullenly as he gazed down at the pair of black leather boots. There were dirty with ashes from the fireplace, a bit of mud and on one of boots, something that looked dark crimson was splattered over the tip. Draco didn't want to know what it was. “You're always late.”

“We have talked about this, Draco,” his father said with a soft sigh. “There is nothing I can do about it. This is my duty.”

“Why d'you join up anyway?” Draco grumbled through clenched teeth. He had forgotten to feel cold now that he was feeling so angry instead. “You don't even believe in h--”

“Hush,” his father said and a warm hand closed around Draco's shoulder. “It isn't safe for you to talk like that.”

“I don't care about 'safe',” Draco spat and finally turned his head to look at his father. “I want to know about why this is so much more important to you than me.”

“Draco!” Lucius' hand tightened around Draco's shoulder and he sounded shocked. “How can you say that, child? _Nothing_ is more important to me than you.”

Draco just shook his head and looked away, stubbornly clinging to his anger. 

“Listen,” Lucius said softly. “When I joined up, I was young and foolish just like so many others. I thought I could do anything I wanted without it having any consequences. Then I had you and I realised that there was something that was bigger than me, something more important than Pureblood supremacy or going after Muggles, something more important than anything and anyone in the whole world.”

“Well, if I'm _that_ important,” Draco muttered angrily. “Why don't you stay home with me, instead of rushing off every time you get the chance?”

“Don't you understand?” Lucius asked sounding like he was beginning to lose his patience. “If I don't bend to His will, he will come after you, Draco. He will try and get to me through you. I can't let that happen. I can't let anything happen to you.”

“But something's already happening to me, Father,” Draco retorted, hating how his voice was beginning to tremble. “I'm missing you. I'm missing you so much, I'm hurting. The summer holidays have always been our time where we send Mother away on holiday with some of her stupid friends, so we can--”

The rest of his words were drowned in the soft kiss suddenly pressed against his lips. Draco whimpered slightly, and even though he wanted to pull away, even though he wanted to tell his father how terrible he was feeling, he couldn't do anything but return the kiss.

“I know,” Lucius whispered against his son's lips and Draco's eyes fluttered closed as he felt warm fingers threading into his hair. “I am sorry, sweet child. I will make it up to you, I promise. Once all this have ended and the old fool and the Potter brat have fallen, things will get better. I promise you, Draco.”

“You promise many things that don't happen,” Draco muttered and opened his eyes to gaze into the light grey irises of his father. “Like the broom thing.”

“Broom thing?” Lucius looked perplexed over the sudden change of subject.

“Yeah,” Draco shrugged. “You promised me that if my grades improved this term, you'd buy me the best racing broom on the market. Well, my grades did improve, but I've never gotten any broom.”

For a moment, all Lucius had to offer was a confused blink of his eyes. Then, a smile spread on his lips and he chuckled softly. “Sweet child,” he said and drew Draco into a tight embrace. “You'll have your broom. I'll take you to London tomorrow to buy it, if you want.”

Draco wanted to struggle and squirm away-- he wasn't done being angry-- but Lucius smelled so nice and in the end he couldn't help but close his eyes and bury himself in his father's arms.

“Really?” he whispered. “You promise?”

“I promise,” his father whispered back. “I'd give you the whole world just to see you smile.”

“A flashy, new broom will suffice for now,” Draco mumbled and smiled a little. It was hard to stay angry with his father for longer periods at a time.

“You know,” Lucius hummed after a while in a silence, and nuzzled his nose into Draco's damp, white hair. “You're making my clothes all wet. Now I shall have to change.”

“When's Mother coming home?” Draco asked as if it were a normal response to what his father had just said-- which it more or less was. 

His father smiled; a special smile that reserved only for Draco. “These types of benefits usually lasts till late,” Lucius replied and got up. “Then, of course, there is the after party, which I am certain that your mother will attend as well. And by the way, I want you out of those soaked clothes before you get a cold.”

“Yes, Father,” Draco said and got up as well. Now that his anger had subsided, he could feel the chill again, and the warmth of the manor suddenly seemed very alluring.

As they made their way into the manor, Draco grabbed hold of his father's robe as he turned to head up the stairs. “Father? Will read to me tonight?”

Lucius chuckled and reached out to ruffle the pale, blond hair. “Draco, you just turned 14,” he said. “Aren't you a bit too old for story reading?”

“But I want to, Father,” was Draco's slightly pouting reply. “I like when you read to me. I like to listen to your voice.”

“Get yourself out of those wet clothes and we'll talk about it,” his father replied.

~*~

When Draco snuggled up in the drawing room a few moments later, he had gotten out of the wet clothes as his father had told him to, but he hadn't, as probably every other child told the same message would have done, put on fresh and dry ones. No, Draco had simply taken the Pashmina blanket from the couch and wrapped it around himself.

It was warm and cosy, and Draco started to feel a bit drowsy as he waited for his father to appear.  
He didn't have to wait long though, because a few minutes later, Lucius stepped through the door, dressed in fresh clothes, and he smiled as their eyes met.

“All warm?” his father asked as he sat down next to his son in the couch, and Draco nodded.

“Then what would you like me to read to you?”

“The Adventures of Prosper the Pure,” Draco answered promptly and nodded toward the book already lying on the mahogany table in front of the couch. The book had been his favourite bedtime story as a child, especially when Lucius read it aloud because he could sometime be talked into doing funny voices for the characters. Draco's mother had always refused to do that.

Lucius chuckled softly and summoned the book. “Come here then,” he said and hold out an arm, inviting his son to snuggle up against him, and Draco happily did so.

~*~

“Draco? Wake up, my boy.”

Draco blinked, then groaned and opened his eyes to look up at his father's face. Apparently, he had fallen asleep while listening to the story.  
Outside the tall windows, the sky had changed from grey to black, and the grandfather clock chimed softly in the adjourning room. Eleven strokes.

It was late, and Draco was still tired even after having slept, so he simply wrapped Lucius' arm tighter around himself and smiled up at him. “How long did I sleep?”

“About an hour,” his father replied and stroked the few stray locks of silvery blond hair away from his son's forehead. “You should go to bed, son.”

“M'don't wanna,” Draco muttered, then, on a sudden whim, shifted closer and pressed a small, soft kiss against his father's lips before whispering, “You're so nice and warm, Daddy.”

Lucius hummed, licked his lips, then leaned in for another kiss, this time a longer one.

Kissing; Draco loved to kiss, and especially kissing his father. Kissing his mother meant a quick peck on the cheek and it was reserved for when extreme measures of convincing had to be taken in use.  
With a soft purr, Draco broke the kiss, shortly, only to shift into a better position before reuniting their lips and letting his eyes fall closed.

Large warm hands were slithering their way under the blanket, slipped over Draco's naked skin, caressing, stroking and gently grabbing, and between Draco and his father's bodies the warmth grew to a steadily increasing heat.

It didn't take long before Draco's body began responding to the loving caresses and the tongue exploring his mouth, and he let out a soft gasp as his cock gave a little twitch between his pale thighs.

The drowsiness from before was all gone as Draco shifted into his father's lap, straddling his thighs and wrapping his arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss. The blanket was still mostly in place around his body, although it had slipped down a little to pool around his hips.  
Lucius, apparently very satisfied with the new position, let his hands glide down Draco's back to cup the boy's naked arse.

Draco moaned and his body reacted with yet another twitch of his cock which started to harden, slowly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco was dimly aware of the fact that it was late and that his mother could be home any minute, but that didn't stop him from shifting once more, this time to push down and rub his arse against his father's groin.  
It drew a low and soft growl from the back of Lucius' throat and the hands on Draco's arse cheeks squeezed the tender flesh.

“Daddy?” Draco whispered, pulling back to look into his father's darkened eyes. They always seemed to go from light grey to deep grey, almost like heavy rain clouds, when Draco was kissing him.

“Mh?” Lucius hummed and licked his lips. “Yes, my boy?”

“I want to,” Draco muttered and lowered his gaze. He always got embarrassed when he had to talk about these kinds of things. “I-- I want to do _it_. That thing.”

“What thing?” his father asked, smiling and clearly enjoying himself very much.

“That _thing_ , you know,” Draco murmured, feeling how his cheeks grew warm. “That-- that naughty thing.”

“Ah, _that_ thing.” Lucius was smirking, then raised a hand to stroke over his son's flushed cheek. “Then close your eyes, sweet child, and lean your head against my shoulder.”

Draco did as his father told him to. He took a deep breath, chewing his bottom lip. He knew what was coming as he felt the tip of Lucius' forefinger nudging against the corner of his mouth and he opened up obediently. 

It was almost like a ritual by now; Lucius would make Draco suck on his finger for a while, then slip his hand down to slide said finger between the boy's buttocks to gently push it inside him. This time was no different.

“Ahh,” Draco moaned softly and shifted his head to bury his face in the curve between his father's neck and shoulder. It always took his body a little time to adjust and relax around the finger, but when it did, another small moan escaped Draco's lips as Lucius began moving it.

“Oh, the sounds you make,” a soft voice whispered in Draco's ear, and he felt warm lips pressed against the smooth patch of skin right under his ear while fingers shifted to rub over the stretch of soft skin right behind Draco's scrotum.

With an involuntary jerk, Draco's body arched back and he let out a high-pitched, mewing whine. It was a mystery why he always reacted to strongly whenever being touched on that particular spot, but it was certain every time. After discovering this, Lucius had begun to refer to it as Draco's honey spot, simply because, he said, Draco's reaction was as sweet as honey. 

What had, moments before, been soft tickling between Draco's thighs, was now red-hot throbbing, and he wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders and leaned in to whimper in his ear, coaxing him to add another finger.

And Lucius did just that, and Draco's moaning grew louder. It was like a drug that only got better and better every time he took it, and Draco swore he was going to be a hardcore addict for the rest of his life.  
Rolling his hips and beginning to rock slowly back and forth in his father's lap, Draco invited Lucius to add yet another finger. He was getting slightly impatient and it only got worse by feeling the rock hard bulge between his father's legs. He wanted it _now_!

Finally, it seemed like even Lucius was beginning to lose it because his fingers were withdrawn to instead begin to open his belt.  
Draco helped him, fumbling in his eagerness, and he let out a soft sigh when he eventually could curl his fingers around his father's slightly twitching erection.

But this was no time for taking it slow; Draco couldn't wait any longer, and, shifting again, he re-positioned himself in Lucius' lap, one hand still wrapped around the thick shaft to guide it to his entrance.

Lucius' fingers made themselves useful in Draco's hair, grabbing fistfuls of it to tug Draco close enough to kiss while he slowly pressed his way past the ring of muscle.

It was bliss, pure, unspoiled bliss, and Draco's groaned into his father's mouth and his body shivered from the wave of sensations that washed over him.  
It felt so, so good that he was sure he was going to explode right there in the drawing room with all the portrait averting their eyes. Just because they knew what was happening, it didn't they had to look, an elegant, elderly woman had shrieked at Draco one day.  
But Draco didn't care if they watched or not, if they knew or not. All he cared about was the man holding him tight, the man panting against his neck, the man making him love to him.

They had done this so many times before that their movements had somehow synchronised themselves with each other, and thinking or using your mind for anything other than pleasure was unnecessary.  
Each body moved in time with the other, rocking and thrusting, like the perfected machine, greased with the sweat from their bodies and the spit from their mouths. 

Perfection had always been the aim of the Malfoy family, and perfection was created between father and son, perfection was sparkling down Draco's spine, making him gasp out yelping whimpers, perfection was in those large hands tightly clutching his hips, guiding his movements, perfection spurted out of Draco's cock as it jerked and splattered his belly and the front of his father's robes with come.

And finally, perfection was when Draco felt his father's grip on his hips tightened and when his cock twitched inside him. It was perfection that filled him up and perfection that began to leak from him and slowly trickle its way down his father's balls.

“My perfect son,” Lucius breathed and carded his fingers through Draco's damp hair, tugging him close for a tender kiss. “You make your daddy such a happy man.”

Draco's reply was merely a soft and satisfied sigh because after waiting outside in the rain and making love to Lucius, he was now utterly exhausted.  
Before his mind drifted too far off, he heard a soft chuckle and a whispered, “I know a little boy who needs to go to bed now.”

Then he felt the blanket, which had slipped off him and fallen to the floor, being wrapped around him, and he purred and snuggled into his father's arms as he was lifted off the couch and carried to his room.

After that, there was nothing but warm, soft blackness.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this.


End file.
